Work Text:
„So, what do we do about Christmas?“
Dean looks up, his eyes still barely open. It’s the time of the day that is usually covered in silence. He is not in the mood to talk before he had his first cup of coffee, and Sam knows that.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean are we… are we going to do something?”
“Why would we?”
It’s not like Christmas is a big thing for them. Geez, Dean can’t even remember the last time they celebrated. Because the thing is, the one thing you can always count on, there will be a hunt. It’s like the freaking Christmas Carol, the ghosts of past Christmas visiting every damn year. Which is why they spent the last couple of years Christmas in sleazy motel rooms, drinking cheap eggnog and watching re-runs of Die Hard. Dean figures it could be worse. But it’s also the reason why they never plan anything.
It’s strange for Sam to bring it up now.
“I just thought… you know… since Cas practically moved in we could do something nice for once.”
It’s true that Cas more or less lives with them now. That is if he is not playing Indy, travelling around, digging up obscure artefacts, that might or might not help them with the Darkness (they don’t). Currently though he is still in his room, sleeping in. For someone who doesn’t actually need to sleep he became quite fond of it. But Dean still doesn’t see how Cas’s presence changes things for them, at least if it comes to Christmas.
“You know he doesn’t care about such things. Besides he was probably one of the feathered guys lurking around in that old stable in the first place. Pretty sure we can’t top that.”
And with that their conversation is over.
---
It’s two days before Christmas when the call comes. Jody’s voice sounds hushed, which means she is probably still at work and doesn’t want anyone else listening. Dean can hear chattering in the background, and something that sounds frighteningly like Last Christmas. What Jody tells him sounds like they are dealing with ghouls. Typical Christmas for Dean then. He promises her to stop by and in return she has to promise him not to start hunting on her own.
He finds Sam and Cas in Sam’s room, watching some documentary about global warming, because they are both giant nerds.
“Jody called: I got us a case. Sounds like we are spending Christmas hunting down ghouls.”
Sam looks up, and if Dean wouldn’t know better he would say his brother looks a bit confused.
“Uhm Dean… I don’t think we are going anywhere.”
“What do you mean?”
“Haven’t you watched the news today?”
He did of course. The hunter news anyway. Actually he had just searched for any kind of weird deaths or accidents, sighting of ghosts or monsters. So yeah, technically he hasn’t watched the news. He still doesn’t know what it has to do with their case.
Before Dean can say anything Cas takes the remote, changing the channel. The words Breaking News appear and then there is snow. Lots of snow.
“They gave out a blizzard warning this morning. No one is supposed to leave their houses until Christmas.”
Huh. Seems like they got their Christmas wonder after all.
---
Dean makes a few calls to find a hunter in Jody’s area, and after he assured her for a third time that yes, Kevin really actually knows what he is doing, you can trust him, he gets back to Cas and Sam. They spent the next two days like this, sitting in front of Sam’s TV, arguing about the programme and the snacks. Cas supports Dean’s choice for liquorice, but his betrayal follows shortly when he agrees with Sam that Star Trek II is a better movie than Star Trek IV (Dean thinks Khan is overrated).
It is actually nice. Dean doesn’t remember the last time they didn’t do anything at all. There is always a hunt or at least some research to do. Dean vaguely recalls a Christmas they had spent at Bobby’s. There wasn’t a blizzard but still enough snow outside to build an entire army of snowmen. Dad couldn’t be there. It is one of his better memories.
There is enough food in the bunker that they could have stayed in for at least two weeks, because Dean might be a bit obsessed when it comes to provisions. Still, at the 24th everyone is allowed to leave their homes again.
The trip to the mall is silent, except for Bing Crosby singing about a white Christmas (the irony isn’t lost on them). They all go their separate ways, returning two hours later, each of them carrying several shopping bags, except for Sam who has managed to buy the most pathetic Christmas tree Dean has ever seen.
“Seriously?”
“It was the only one they had left. We are not the only ones doing some last minute Christmas shopping here, Dean.”
Dean just nods. They need twenty minutes to figure out how to transport the tree in the Impala and another twenty to leave the parking lot.
Surprisingly Dean is still in a good mood.
---
Once they return to the bunker they all go to their rooms. Dean wraps his presents; they were out of wrapping paper, so he uses an old newspaper instead. It looks… well the thought counts, right?
Afterwards he makes himself busy in the kitchen. Just when he finishes the crust Cas comes around, watching him with the same sincere expression as always.
“What are you doing?”
“Pie.”
“Can I help?”
Dean just shrugs. He is used to prepare the food alone; Sam never showed much interest in cooking despite his annoying obsession for healthy food. He is not sure if Cas has ever made pie before. Then again it is not exactly rocket science.
“You can help me with the whipped cream.”
Cas nods, already examining the recipe in front of Dean. It is written down in Mary Winchester’s neat handwriting. For some reason Mary had forgotten her recipe book in the car in the days before she died; maybe she had taken it with her while she went grocery shopping. Dean never had the chance to ask her. All he knows is that is one of the few things the flames didn’t consume. Dean found it three days later under the backseat. He never told his dad or Sam and kept it like treasure ever since. It feels weird to see Cas now reading in it, but not in a bad way.
“Is it tradition to eat pie at Christmas?”
“Well, it was for my mom. It’s uhm… it’s eggnog pie. She always made two: one without the good stuff for me, and a spiked one for herself and dad.”
“I see,” Cas says, while he wanders through the kitchen, gathering the ingredients they need for the filling. “Sam said you had no Christmas traditions.”
“He doesn’t know.”
Cas turns around, his eyes wide in surprise. It is not the usually Winchesters-keeping-secrets-from-each-other kind of deal, but still it sucks.
“Sam of course can’t remember and dad never brought it up and I just… kept it to myself. I dunno. We hardly ever talked about her and what little I remembered of her I didn’t want to share with anyone. I know it’s kinda stupid and childish. I don’t know why I did it. Don’t know why I still do it.”
He talks more to the table in front of him then to Cas. Cas stays silent, only his hands moving, and for a moment it seems like he wants to hold Dean’s hands, spending him comfort by touch alone. Then the moment is gone and he can hear Cas cough.
“It’s okay, Dean. You were just a child, trying to find a way to live with the loss of your mother. Sam would understand. We all have things we like to keep to ourselves, private thoughts and… emotions.”
Cas looks at him, and it seems like there might be something else he wants to tell Dean. Dean wants to say something, the words already on the tip of his tongue, when there is a loud crash in their living room.
They find Sam, covered in sweat and needles. The tree lies next to him, with most of the ornaments shattered. There is a small moment with something felt like pity for his brother, before Dean bursts out in laughter. They help him clean up the mess, and when they later return they see the whole amount of Sam’s creativity. Except for the three ornaments that survived the tree is covered in little bows, made out of what it seems an old red flannel shirt. True Winchester style indeed.
---
Dinner is a bit more formal than usual; they sit at one of the larger tables in the library, and Dean managed to find a bunch of candles and some fine red wine in the bunker’s kitchen. He even found a vinyl with old Christmas classics, the distant sound of it surrounding them while they eat.
“This is not half bad,” Dean admits. “Might even make it to our top ten of Christmases.”
“I’m not sure we even celebrated Christmas that many times.”
“Of course we did, Sammy. And it was always fun.”
His brother sighs, and Dean knows what comes next – “If staying at crappy motel rooms is fun to you” – but he is not in the mood to fight, not tonight.
“Uh… remember that one year in Nebraska… dad was on a hunt and we were on our own and you gave me this amulet I always used to wear. Never took it off. Well, until Cas nicked it from me.”
Upon hearing his name Cas looks up, frowning.
“You gave it to me. And I most certainly gave it back to you.”
“Yeah, you did. And then I ditched it. Which you know… I shouldn’t have. It was… a really good present.”
He looks at Sam, hoping that he knows he is sorry. He should have told him a long time ago. Sam smiles at him, but Dean can’t help the feeling that it looks kinda sad.
“Well, I got a Sapphire Barbie that year, you can’t top that. Actually I uhm… I still got it.”
“You do?”
“Couldn’t bring it over me to throw it away.”
There is a moment of stunned silence before Dean bursts out in laughter. All those years, living together in close spaces, and Dean never figured it out.
They stay like this for quite some time, exchanging stories about their past Christmases. Cas just sits there and listens, without anything to add to their stories, but he doesn’t seem to mind. For once they all seem to be at peace.
“Alright, it’s time for the Christmas pie.”
“The what?”
“Just wait and see, Sammy.”
Dean goes to the kitchen, returning with the pie, some plates and the rest of the spiked eggnog.
“Since when do we eat pie at Christmas?”
“Since now. It’s tradition.”
“No, it’s not.”
Dean looks up and glances at Cas. Cas gives him an encouraging smile, leaving it up to Dean whether or not to tell Sam.
“It used to be. Back when… when mom was alive. She always made pie at Christmas.”
Sam just nods. He doesn’t ask Dean why he withheld this information and Dean is utterly grateful for that. Maybe he understands why. Maybe he doesn’t wants to know.
“So why… why are you doing it now?”
“I dunno,” Dean admits. “Something feels different this year.”
Cas looks at him, the same intense way he did earlier, when they made the damn pie, and for a moment Dean finds it impossible to look away. There is something between them, has been for a while, something outspoken Dean tries very hard not to think about. Instead he knocks down his glass of eggnog, concentrating on the burning sensation down his throat.
“There is… there is something I would like to give to you,” Cas starts uncertain. “I know we are supposed to exchange presents in the morning, but I thought… I mean…”
Dean grins.
“It’s cool, Cas. There is never a wrong time for presents.”
Cas nods, before he gets up and returns a couple moments later with three gift boxes. He hands each to Sam and Dean and keeps one to himself. Curiously Dean opens his box. Inside is a sweater. But not just a sweater, a Christmas sweater. A quick glance to Sam confirms that he got the same thing. It is by far the most hideous thing he has ever seen. He tries to think of a kind way to tell Cas that there is no way he is going to wear that thing, when Cas starts talking again.
“I… I saw photos of other families wearing them as well. I thought maybe… you don’t have to of course… “
Sam gets up before Cas can say another word, already dragging the sweater over his head.
“No, no, there are cool. Really Cas, they are… uhm… special.”
Sam glares at Dean, as if he dares him to say anything against them, but Dean has no intention to do so.
“You’re right, Cas. It’s a… it’s a family thing.”
Cas beams at them.
---
They spent the rest of the evening in front of the TV, wearing their sweaters, drinking eggnog until their tipsy and eating the rest of the pie. They watch Die Hard (because it’s a classic), which ends up in Sam and Dean silently arguing about the sequels. Cas ignores them.
Sam calls it a night a bit after midnight, leaving Cas and Dean alone. They watch the beginning of White Christmas, sitting close, but not too close to each other. He can feel the warmth radiating from Cas and for a moment he entertains himself with the thought of touching Cas, reaching out, to do something, anything. But then Cas gets up and the moment is gone.
“I’m going to bed as well,” Cas informs him.
“Yeah, right, I should probably… “
Dean gets up, feeling a bit lightheaded. Maybe he should have saved that last eggnog. Cas is with him within seconds, supporting him. Dean can feel himself blushing, unable to look Cas in the eyes.
“Uh… thanks, Cas. I think I will manage the rest on my own.”
“Dean,” Cas says, looking up. Dean follows his gaze, looking at the ceiling. Mistletoe. Right. Great.
“Uhm,” Dean begins to stutter, as eloquent as ever. “Sam must have putted up there.”
Who else is tall enough.
“He didn’t. I did.”
Dean just stares.
“You uh… you probably didn’t… well there is this tradition… “
“I’m aware.”
Huh. Dean stares a bit more, while his brain is trying to catch up. Cas bought a mistletoe. Cas, fully aware of its meaning, bought a mistletoe and put it up in the bunker, so that by any chance he and Dean would end up standing right under it.
Cas shifts closer, if that is even possible.
“Merry Christmas, Dean.”
It’s nothing more than a whisper, just for Dean to hear, and it doesn’t really matter, does it, not if the next thing Cas does is kissing Dean. He tastes sweet, like eggnog and cinnamon and everything else Christmas-like, but the kiss is nothing but sweet, not with Cas using his tongue like this, his fingers digging through Dean’s hair. If Dean had any illusions what this kiss might mean, they are long gone.
There is a smug expression on Cas’s face when he steps back, and only the faintest hint of pink on his cheeks. It is nothing compared to the crimson red Dean’s face must certainly turned to.
“Sleep well, Dean.”
And with that, he is gone.
---
It’s only after Dean heard Sam yelling his name a third time that Dean gets up the next morning. It’s not like he isn’t awake – he feels like he has been awake for hours – but he dreads walking out of his room. He dreads seeing Cas again. Cas, who has left him standing like an idiot, after he… well… kissed him. Dean doesn’t remember how long he stood there, debating with himself whether he should follow Cas or not (he didn’t). He eventually went back to his room; by the early morning hours he tried to convince himself it was all just a dream (maybe the eggnog had been getting to his head). But he knew it wasn’t a dream – his dreams of kissing Cas always looked different.
He finds Cas and Sam in the living room, right by the tree. They inform him that they already had breakfast without him (thank you very much) and it’s time to exchange some presents. Dean silently agrees, glancing at Cas. Cas, who doesn’t act any different at all, like nothing happened between them. Which, you know, is totally fine by Dean.
“Seriously?”
Dean looks up, as Sam starts to unwrap his first present, holding a book in his hands.
“Uh... that one is from me.”
“Encyclopedia of Serial Kilers?”
“You have a fetish.”
By that Sam just laughs and shakes his head, but seems nevertheless interested in his present, flipping through the pages.
“Thanks, I guess. This one is for you,” he says, handing Dean a little parcel wrapped in newspaper as well.
Dean opens it curiously, just to find the same present in it he got twenty-four years ago: the amulet.
“I uhm… I kept it. I thought that maybe one day you want it back.”
“Thanks, Sammy. I love it.”
He drags his little brother into a tight embrace. Cas is standing nearby, watching them with a little smile on his face. Once Dean lets go, Sam turns around, facing Cas.
“So, this is for you, Cas.”
Sam hands Cas a little box. Cas opens it, his brow furrowed. Inside is a little car-freshner, a bottle of motor oil and other things for a car.
“Sam, I… I don’t have a car.”
“About that… I did some research and I’m pretty positive I found your car. So that’s your actually present. And uhm… sorry I called it crappy.”
Before Sam knows it he gets crushed by a hug for the second time; he doesn’t seem to mind. Dean nervously shifts around them, and the moment Cas lets go of Sam he hands Cas wordlessly his present.
“I know Metadouche already uploaded them in your mind or whatever, but it’s not like actually seeing them, and well there is a new movie, so I thought… we could all watch it together… or something.”
He watches how Cas unfolds his present, holding a box set of all the Star Wars movies in his hand. Which, yeah, is something Dean always thought the bunker was missing, and he might have bought a little bit for himself as well. Cas seems a bit surprised.
“There is more than one movie?”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought… after the destruction of the Death Star… I guess Metatron didn’t like that first one and never watched the other movies.”
Dean is at a loss of words.
“That’s like the worst thing he could have done.”
“Worse than killing you?”
“Yeah!”
Sam just laughs, but nevertheless admits it is one of Metatron’s worst crimes.
It’s how they end up in front of the TV (again), and after some debating in which order they should watch, they start their little marathon with the original trilogy. Cas sits next to Dean (his usual place), but instead of telling jokes like he normally does Dean just stares at the screen, trying to concentrate on the movie he has seen a thousand times before instead of Cas. If Cas finds his behaviour somehow suspicious he doesn’t say anything. It’s only after The Empire Strikes Back that Cas gets suddenly up, leaving the room without a word. Dean wonders if he has ruined whatever exactly it is between them (how?), but Cas comes back a few minutes later, a present in his hands. He has somehow managed to find some actual wrapping paper, even adding a little bow on top of it.
“I forgot to give you my present. This one is for the both of you.”
Curiously Sam takes it, opening it carefully. Inside is a big leather-bound album. He slowly opens it: it’s full of photos. But not just any photos, photos of their family. There is Dean and Sam, their mom and dad, Bobby, even Cas himself. Dean recognizes some of the photos; they used to be in his room, scattered over his table. Others are new to him; he has never seen them before.
“I found some photos when I went through Bobby’s belongings, looking for some books I needed for research. I thought maybe it would be nice if you had all of your family photos in one place.”
There is another round of hugs, and Dean is most definitively not crying, he just got some tinsel in his eyes, thank you very much. They watch some more Star Wars, eat way too much, and eventually go out, making snow men and snow angels. They stay together the whole day, as the little family that they are. Dean doesn’t think he could be happier. If it wasn’t for that kiss of course. Dean thinks he might understand what Cas’s reaction – or better lack off – means. He leaves it up to Dean to decide what happens next.
Which is how he finds himself in the middle of the night standing in front of Cas’s door. It’s not like Dean was able to sleep (again) and Cas doesn’t sleep anyway, so yeah. He knocks.
“Come in.”
Dean finds Cas sitting on his bed. He doesn’t seem to be surprised to see Dean this late. Dean sits next to him, trying to find the best way to ask Cas what he needs to know.
“So, today was fun.”
“Yes, I enjoyed it very much as well.”
Dean looks at Cas; the warm light of the bunker illuminates his face. He looks older now, softer than when they first met. No longer a stranger but family. Maybe more.
“Cas,” Dean begins, his voice nothing more than a whisper. There are no right words. “Why did you kiss me?”
“I think you already know.”
He does. He has known it for a while now. Still, it’s different.
“Why now?”
Cas hesitates for a short moment, taking a deep breath before he answers.
“When I was an angel I was assigned to watch earth, to watch humanity. Not to interfere, just watching. I have seen many Christmases. And it always made me wonder. Because it changed people. They acted different; warmer, kinder. There is something about this particular time… I couldn’t quite understand it back then. But I’ve been through a lot since then. I have changed as well. I wanted to understand the true meaning of Christmas. I think I do now.”
Cas slowly turns around, and it looks like he might want to say more. But really, there is no need. Dean gets it. He smiles when he kisses Cas.